Estés Donde Estés
by the.terrorist
Summary: Yoh/Anna. Yoh loved his wife. He truly did. But witnessing all of this had made him wonder just how much he showed her that—and he had reached the conclusion that it was not much.


Who's reading fics in Spanish? I am, I am! Years of watching soap operas and listening to Spanish songs seem to have finally paid off!

Anyway, the title was inspired by Jean Carlos Canela's song, "_Estés Donde Estés_". You should give it a try, it's really sweet.

On with the story! A different take on the 'Yoh has to travel' idea I made public in my other one-shot, _Coming to Terms_. Enjoy!

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><p>The sky was darkening when he stepped out of the mansion that evening, dress shirt half unbuttoned and hands buried nonchalantly in the pockets of his black slacks. The white, pristine sand felt warm and soft underneath his feet as he stepped down from the porch, and directed his gaze upwards, to the heavens. Little stars had started to appear like twinkling dots against the dark-blue backdrop, which warmed to shades of dark-purple and fiery red further into the horizon, where it met the ever expanding ocean.<p>

It had been a nice wedding, he reflected. Not quite as big as his own, but they had _wanted_ something simple and intimate, and it had been a long time since Yoh was last able to relax with his friends. He had also never thought he would see the day when Ren would outright disobey his father, but love had a tendency of changing things, deforming them beyond recognition. He knew that from experience.

A small, rueful smile appeared on his features as he slowly began to walk along the wide stretch of fine, sun-warmed sand.

His love for his wife had turned his entire world upside down. Every fiber of his being had adjusted to be in tune with her, and every corner of his heart had stretched to accommodate her. But it hadn't been an effort, because she had always _belonged_ there.

Marriage was not as easy as that sentence might have suggested, though.

A soft, sad sigh escaped his lips at the thought.

Being Shaman King was not an easy job, and even though Anna seemed to understand that… it pained him. It worried him. It unsettled him. And that was hardly in his nature.

The ceremony had taken place at sunset. The blonde had stood by Pirika's side as her bridesmaid, and he had realized, with a sinking sense of dread, as he watched her, that he had forgotten how incredibly beautiful she was. Sure, he had known that all along—but it had been only that: knowledge. Knowledge whose intensity had faded with every second he spent away from her.

Raising his head to face forward, he noticed her presence for the first time.

She was standing on the beach, her long, white dress gathered in her hands and held above her knees as her feet soaked in the warm water. Long, curly strands of golden blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she looked down at the clear, crystalline liquid, the picture of relaxation—and ethereal beauty.

His eyes softened at the sight of her, and before he could think the action through, he moved forward until he was behind her, uncaring of the water that soaked his pants as he gently touched her back with his hand. Perceptive as always, Anna simply turned her head to the side slightly, recognizing his presence immediately, and accepting it wholeheartedly. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he realized that she should have every right not to be so in-tune with him anymore.

Closing his eyes, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, the scent of her fresh perfume invading his senses as he breathed in.

Anna closed her eyes herself, and allowed her head to lean back against his shoulder, every fiber of her being relaxing with his closeness, and the warmth that he offered her. She would never say it out loud, but she had missed his touch—she had missed him.

"Forgive me," he murmured unexpectedly, the words rumbling against the skin of her shoulder.

She frowned, turning her head so that she could see him better. "What for?" she asked.

"Because I'm never here," he answered.

Seeing the way Ren and Pirika interacted had struck a chord inside of him. His friend was usually a cold, rather emotionless person, but seeing the way he _looked_ at her… Yoh loved his wife. He truly did. But witnessing all of this had made him wonder just how much he showed her that—and he had reached the conclusion that it was not much.

"You are Shaman King, Yoh. You have a certain responsibility—and I understand that." She slowly turned around, his touch gliding across the soft material of her dress with the movement. "The world needs you more than I do."

"I miss you," he whispered, one of his hands burying into the hair at the nape of her neck. "I don't care about anything else, Anna. I just want you."

A small smile lit up her features upon hearing his words. "You have me," she answered, and allowed her dress to fall back around her long legs and into the water; she reached up to touch his face, her fingers tracing his jaw-line. "But you have made an oath—and, in the end, no one forced you to. Now you have to respect it."

Yoh shook his head. "You're more important than any oath."

Her smile widened. "I know that," she told him in a gentle tone, before standing on her tiptoes to touch her lips to his in a small, chaste kiss. "There is nothing left to prove," she whispered as she pulled back, just enough to look at him in the eye. "You have a mission. And, no matter what happens, know that every time you turn back, I will be there."

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><p>The link for her dress is on my profile.<p>

Please review!


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